


Happiness and tears, mostly happiness.

by santghhy



Series: A different universe. [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bad Spelling & Grammar, Cute, Description of Labor, F/M, Fluff, Newborn Children, Pregnancy, Sad and Happy, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santghhy/pseuds/santghhy
Summary: They were ready.





	Happiness and tears, mostly happiness.

They were ready for this. Of course they were. Towels? The fluffy ones he could find in the small market. Clothes? The better ones she could buy and even risky to sew a little. Food? Salt fish, freshwater and fruits for almost 5 days or so. They were ready. Since the midwife said it would be any day soon when the moon shifted into waning. Only a few days, so it would be.

But when she felt the child shifting inside her guts in the middle of the night she knew it would be sooner than expected. And that was fine. They were ready. 

No. They weren't ready.

He couldn't leave her side. Even when the small old lady told him that was no place for a man and even risky to try to drag him outside the room, he wouldn't leave.  
He worried. The sweating, the screaming, the blood washing the bed sheets.

He tried to keep calm. The girl knew that. In other moments, other situations, he would have expressed his worries out loud. But that time he only stayed at her side, whispering a few words into her ear and holding the small girl hands stronger and stronger.

And she was the one giving birth.

She was also scared, he knew that, she knew that. It was in her eyes. 

Of course she could be scared if she wanted to. She was pushing a person of her insides, a small person. But even so, she was also a small girl. A small woman? She got so used to call herself a girl and hearing him saying that. It was weird to imagine that the twenty years old wasn't just a girl anymore. But a woman. 

A mother. 

An assassin.

But last keep the last part away for a little while. 

She remembered her aunt Lyanna, the woman everyone always compared her with. Would they be the same at this too?  
Would she bleed until death at birthing? Would Jaqen take care of the child? Would he blame the child of her death?  
No. No. She wouldn't think of that. She wouldn't leave them. Even if the Death knock on their door right now, she would tell him to go fuck himself cause she wouldn't be leaving her family right now. Or ever.

But the pain. The pain was like it was cutting her in half. When the wave would come she would only close her eyes and hold a breath. The scream was involuntary. 

When the old lady told her it was time to push and if it was a comfortable position she only shacked her head and felt more tears falling. No, it wasn't comfortable. She wanted her mother, her sister. She wanted to introduce her child for her brother's, how would Jon react? Would he cry when he holds the small person for the first time? Would he be proud of her? And Robb? Would Bran say something? Show an emotion? What about Rickon? He was so young when she last saw him that it was hard to imagine how he would react to such a thing. And her father? God's, how would her father react? Would her father liked Jaqen? Probably no. But would he be happy for her own happiness? 

"Push, my love."

She looked at her side and saw his eyes, some tears were falling and others kept making it shine. But it wasn't only that. 

She saw his eyes. 

His real eyes. 

With the dark magic that followed both of them, in especially that followed him. It was enough to trick his appearance. Put some red in his white hair and turn his eyes green.

She could count the times that he let his guard down so much that the green eyes disappeared and in the place amethyst orbs stared back at her. And, oh. 

Her chest was tight. And she wanted to cry. The pain still there, but now she felt loved, so much love.

How can someone felt so many things at once?

"Push, love. Push." 

He kept saying and suddenly she felt strength.

"Turn me around, I'm not comfortable. Help me." 

Her voice was weak. Barely a whisper, but the strength in her body was there, she knew it, she could feel it. Running into her body like lightnings.

They helped her move on all fours, now on the floor and over the same bed blankets that were already filthy. Her nightgown was taken off and the chill lake breath refreshed her sweaty skin.

And she pushed. Jaqen supporting her front, his hands never leaving her, his words never stopping.

"C'mon, love. Bring our child for us."  
"Just a little more, please, love."

She could hear the midwife's voice, but she couldn't make up what she was saying, she focused on his voice and into pushing, trying not to scream again.  
How the child would look? Black hair? The Stark-Targaryen mix that made Jon taught her that the Stark blood was stronger than the Valyrian. Would that repeat?

And suddenly she felt it. 

And the world stoped.

"A little more. Just a little more." 

The midwife told her and she felt the elder hands between her legs. Expecting. 

And it was it. Just a little more.

A loud cry filled the room and her body immediately loses all the strength, Jaqen was the one holding her in place.

"You did it. You did it."

He keeps repeating. 

She did it.

Carefully he helped her lay down into the floor, her back now into his chest and she watched the screaming small person into the older woman's arms. The woman was looking at the child, the hands, legs, while passing a cloth in the newborn, cleaning of all the blood and whatever more it was over his skin and as if also checking if was everything alright, checking if it had 5 fingers on each hand and each foot. 

It take only few moments but for Arya it was longer and she didn't even notice that her own arms raised asking for her child.

"It's a girl. A healthy and angry little girl. Congratulations." 

The elder smiled while saying it and bringing the child now in the middle of a towel for her own expecting arms.

She was crying yet. Louder and stronger, and Arya smiled. 

A healthy and angry little girl.

Indeed, her daughter.

Daughter.

Her hair was black, full and fat red cheeks, and her eyes. 

God's.

Amethyst eyes.

Arya looked over her shoulder and Jaqen mouth was slightly open, tears still falling from his eyes and she never saw that expression before. Happiness? Fear? Love? Reverence? A mix of everything. 

"Nadira..." 

He only whispered and she smiled.

During her pregnancy, they talked about names. Names were something easy for them. 

And for some reasons they only thought girl names. And Nadira was their favorite one. 

Nadira, the Precious. 

Nadira Stark or Nadira H'Ghar? They would create a different last name for her? He said it should be Stark, she said it should be H'Ghar. But for now, it didn't matter.

It was her Nadira. They Nadira.

Born at a hot afternoon in their bedroom at their little house. Home. 

Nadira born in Lorath.

But Nadira H'Ghar sounds better. 

The midwife broke the spell and told her they should finish the labor. Clean her up, separate her connection with the child. It would hurt a little. 

She gives a small knife to Jaqen and carefully, he cut the string that connect her from the child. 

It didn't hurt. 

But then she felt the woman's hands between her legs and told her to push a little. 

That hurt. 

She did as she was told and it didn't take longer. The midwife cleaned her legs and hold Nadira while Jaqen helped her to lay in bed. 

When her head felt the comfort of the pillows she felt her lids heavy, the child, now quiet, was once again in her chest and she closed her eyes feeling already comfortable with the familiar weight and heat in her arms.

A few moments passed and Jaqen sit at her side. When opening her eyes, she noticed they were alone. And the bloody blankets on the floor had disappeared.

She knew the midwife wouldn't leave for another day. Helping Arya just a little. 

Jaqen eyes were still purple, and he looked almost scared.

"Want to hold her?"

He didn't answer at first, but then he carefully brought his arms to her and carefully they put the small child into it. 

"She's..."

His words dyed, but Arya understand.

She's beautiful. She's perfect. She's the perfect mix of we.

The child stared at him. Purple on purple. Nadira was fascinated at her father and Arya swear she smiled. Was that possible? Or would she be one of that mother's that think her small creation is the smartest and beautiful thing ever? Probably.

But she smiled 

Arya put her head at Jaqen shoulder and yawned calling his attention.

"Sleep. You deserve it."

"I don't want to sleep."

She answer and he smiled while bringing his lips into her forehead.

"She's going to be hungry soon. Sleep. I won't leave." 

Her eyes became more and more heavy and slowly she closed them. She could feel Jaqen breathing, and Nadira presence even if quiet was loud enough.

They still weren't ready. Will they ever be? Would they raise her well? Would she love them? Hate them?

The truth is that they wouldn't never be totally ready, but that was fine. They would learn and they would be together.

Everything was fine.

And Nadira H'Ghar still sounds better.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I haven't written in a long while and English isn't my first language so feel free to correct me ;)
> 
> And yes, I believe the theory Jaqen is Valyrian. The first FM? A Lord? A commoner? Who knows, but I like this idea so if I actually continue this series I want to explore it.  
> And if Jaqen is the first FM he has some tricks right? Hence the dark magic hair and eyes, is definitely not actually something but in my head it make sense.


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